So I have this theory. It came to me while watching that Seinfeld episode about shrinkage. It suddenly dawned on me that women have a parallel problem that the universe deigns not to address.
Spreadage, as this phenomenon is known, occurs when a women sits down, whether it be in a chair, a couch or the driver’s seat. Her thighs, now pressing against the cushion, are splayed outward, giving the untrained eye the appearance of great width. This is especially distressing while sitting in a car with bucket seats, as the thighs are then pushed outward and upward.
Short of constantly wearing a trench coat as camouflage or keeping your legs underneath your desk, spreadage is an evil that lurks when you least expect it.
Spreadage, as this phenomenon is known, occurs when a women sits down, whether it be in a chair, a couch or the driver’s seat. Her thighs, now pressing against the cushion, are splayed outward, giving the untrained eye the appearance of great width. This is especially distressing while sitting in a car with bucket seats, as the thighs are then pushed outward and upward.
Short of constantly wearing a trench coat as camouflage or keeping your legs underneath your desk, spreadage is an evil that lurks when you least expect it.
My advice? When it happens, just claim: “I’m sitting down! This is not me! I’m sitting down!”
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2 comments:
I dunno. My trip out yesterday revealed a shrinkage of another kind. And I thought I was all cool and accepting. I came home and announced that I would need to have another baby to temporarily improve my bustline, but A. pointed out that surgery would be cheaper and easier on my health than raising another child.
I used to buy A36, but then I was told that it's basically the same as a B34. So now I lie to myself and buy B34. Feels good. And no stretch marks or scar tissue.
A. is funny.
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